


Twinning

by EminEmily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EminEmily/pseuds/EminEmily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean encounters a weird and creepy circumstance on the metro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twinning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's amazing, I know, I updated twice in the same month. I'm sorry if this one seems similar to the Halloween one I just posted. A while ago, as in a very long time ago (6 months - maybe a year) I started a list of fanfic ideas. Some of it was things I thought would be fun to write, others were things I saw on the Internet, but tweaked a little. I vowed to start and finish that list. So I've been trying to go down the list and write whatever was next. When I wrote it, I didn't really think when I put somewhat similar ones together, and I expected them to be uploaded further apart. Anyway, this is sort of like the 'Tale of Two Indies' one, but different in some ways. Anyway, it's a fic I cranked out pretty quickly, it was easy to write this time for some reason. Either way, enjoy!

    Dean Winchester was never a people person. In high school he sat at the back of the classroom, rarely raised his hand, and only spoke to a few select people. That wasn't to say he was shy, he kept up a steady stream of girlfriends, boyfriends, and one-night stands all throughout his high school career. He wasn't unintelligent, either, he kept straight A's with the occasional midterm B and graduated high up in his class. No, Dean wasn't shy or stupid by any means, he just never felt the need to talk. He had his group of friends, they knew him well enough to know that his wit was as sharp as his brain, and that was that. Dean just didn't talk because he didn't like people. He didn't like attention. He wanted to go through life doing whatever he had to do to get by with as little drama as possible, and people were drama.

     Dean hated the metro purely for this reason. He spent twenty minutes every morning, and twenty minutes every afternoon, surrounded by people. They moved and surged around him like a school of fish, and he hated every minute of it. He hated being looked at with his tailored business suit and slightly battered suitcase, he hated when the train lurched to a stop and the person behind him, every morning without fail, no matter who it was, slammed into his back. He hated the weirdos on the train and he hated the crowds in general. He would get a car to combat this, or maybe live in the city, but parking was expensive and so were the apartments, so he settled for the metro...unfortunately.

     His day was like any other. He woke in the morning, showered, ate his breakfast, and packed himself into his tailored monkey suit to go to work at his office. Before college, Dean was a mechanic at his dad's shop. He loved the engines and grease and people who came. He loved knowing that he could damn well fix the car under his hands, no matter its problem. Cars weren't complicated, people and life were.

     He stood outside the metro doors, feeling more and more like a sardine about to be packed into the can, and dutifully followed the line through the doors when they opened. He pulled the headphones of his iPod out of his pocket (a Christmas present from his brother. He disliked it at first, but the more he rode the metro, the more he grew to love it) and pushed them into his ears, letting AC/DC wash over him to block the noise of the train.

     He tried to ignore the people around him, as he did every morning, until the sight of someone caught his eye. He turned to find someone staring at him from across the train a few seats down from him. The man had rough, dark hair and stubble peppered around his jaw. What was surprising, though, was that he was wearing almost the exact same thing as Dean.

     Dean was not considered a fashionable man by any means, he wore what was appropriate for the office during the week, and spent his weekends lounging around in his beat up jeans or ratty old sweatpants. He looked much like every other white collar worker trolling around the city. The thing that defined him was his ties. He had a different one for every day of the week, and more for when he felt like switching it up. He had ties of all kinds; plain colours, designs, some that reflected his tastes (he couldn't  _not_ buy the Chewbacca tie when the opportunity presented itself, okay?) and some that were just weird, but he liked it that way. This guy, though, the one staring straight through him, was wearing the exact same fucking tie as Dean. Today it was a galaxy design, a supernova with stars dotting it. Dean loved the colours and the swirls, he'd been an astrology geek as a kid, secretly.

     In fact, the guy was wearing the same black shirt and black slacks combo, too, which wasn't too unusual, but unsettled Dean nonetheless whenever he saw the tie. The only difference between their outfits was that the man, whoever he was, wore different shoes. While Dean had stuck to the black theme, the guy had opted for blue ones that brought out some of the colours in the tie. Other than that, they were wearing the same thing, and it unnerved Dean to no end, especially considering that the guy was staring holes into him at the moment.

     Dean decided to play it off, he dressed like everyone else that worked in an office, so of course it was just a coincidence that this random guy on this random metro wore the same thing. Just a happy coincidence. He nodded at the guy and went back to letting his music wash over him, trying in vain to ignore the eyes he could feel on from afar.

     When the metro stopped, Dean got off and scurried away to his office without a backwards glance.

 

     The next morning, Dean got back on the metro, this time with a charcoal shirt and pants combination, with a maroon-coloured tie and his black patent leather shoes. He stuck his headphones in his ears like he did every morning and bobbed his head to the sound of Kansas. He stayed like that for at least ten minutes, moving with the train as it stopped at a couple more underground stops before taking off into the city.

     He was just about to imagine himself belting out the lyrics to _Icarus_ when he felt it again, the eyes. The same burrowing eyes as the day before. He looked over to find the gaze attached to exactly who he expected, the same guy from the day before. This time he noted that the guy had quite the set of eyes on him, blue ones that made Dean feel like he was laying in a field back in his home town with his little brother and staring up at the clouds, trying to decipher their shapes.

     The guy had a strong face, one that looked like he could kill Dean with one hand tied behind his back if he tried hard enough. Dean swallowed thickly and let his eyes roam. And then...he noticed that again, fucking _again_ , the guy was wearing the same damn suit. Charcoal shirt, charcoal pants, and the same fucking tie. The only difference, again, was his shoes, maroon where Deans' were black.

     Dean felt the eeriness of the situation weigh back onto his shoulders. He tried to shake it off again, his outfit still wasn't that uncommon, but still, two days in a row? Weird. Really, really weird.

     Dean ignored it again, and left the train with only one glance over his shoulder towards the metro.

 

     The following morning, Dean decided to try something. He put on a white shirt, his gray pants, and the weirdest, nerdiest tie he had, the one with a bunch of superheroes on it. He paired it with the same black shoes as always, and set out from his apartment, confident that he wouldn't have to deal with anyone matching him anymore.

     When he got on the metro, he was almost happy about it for the first time in his life, he slid into his seat with a zeal of sorts around him. He was almost giddy at the idea of the guy not matching him anymore, and that was the same moment he realised that he  _really_ didn't have a life.

     He didn't even realise that he never brought his iPod.

     Ten minutes later, he felt the eyes boring into him again, harder than they ever had before, if that was even possible. He looked over to meet the same warm blue eyes he'd been meeting for three days. He smiled lightly, just a quirk of his lips, and the guy met his smirk by lifting the sides of his mouth even less. Dean let his eyes slide down slowly...only to find that the guy was wearing a white shirt, gray pants...and a tie covered with superheroes.

     It felt like Dean's whole world had slowed to a stop, like the Earth had stopped spinning and time had paused with it. Dean felt the pounding of his heart in his ears and his chest constricted with it. He'd gotten this tie as a Christmas present, he'd never seen anyone else wearing it around the city. No one else. And here was this guy who, for the third day in a row, was wearing the same thing that he was, even down to the tie. Even down to the nerdy, unique tie that he had never seen on anyone else.

     This whole thing had transcended coincidence, it beat out eerie by a long shot. He was down to straight up creepy now. He needed answers, this needed to end.

     He marched across the train, pushing past the bodies surrounding him, angling himself toward the tousled man whose eyes were still boring into him like drill bits.

     He settled into the open seat by the guy and crossed his arms, leaning back in a defensive stance. "Okay," he started, his voice terse, the first thing he'd ever said to anyone on public transportation. "Who are you?"

     The guy smiled softly, and Dean noticed that he was starting to get crinkles by his eyes. "Castiel. Castiel Novak."

     Wow, his voice definitely fit his face. Dean cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Okay,  _Cas_ , what is this?" He unfolded one of his arms and gestured toward Cas's body.

     Castiel tilted his head, bemused. "I don't think I understand what you're referring to."

     Dean felt his jaw twinge with frustration, he gestured again towards Cas, his movements jerky and angry. " _This_. This whole matching thing. It's been three days, and you've been wearing the same goddamn thing as me. Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern, I don't even know what three times it. It's creepy and confusing and I want answers."

     Castiel chuckled softly, and it sounded like warm chocolate being poured over concrete. "I want them just as much as you do..." he trailed off, waiting for Dean to take a hint.

     "Dean Winchester," Dean grunted unhappily.

     Castiel nodded, "Dean. I wanted...want answers just as much as you. I noticed three days ago, just like you, that we happened to be wearing the same clothes. The second day I noticed even more, and today...today I definitely noticed. Maybe I should be asking  _you_ why  _you're_ wearing the same thing as  _me_."

     Dean shook his head, "No, I've been riding this train for ages. I've never seen you before. Suddenly I notice you and not only are you wearing the same thing as me, you're staring at me with those soul-searching eyes of yours. I deserve answers more, I think."

     Castiel laughed again, a little louder this time. "Alright, fine. Firstly, I apologise for the staring, I was trying to figure out if I knew you somehow, if it was my brother playing a prank on me. I was, and am, just as weirded out by this whole thing as you are. Secondly, I just moved here, to an apartment about ten minutes out of the city. Three days ago was the first day of my new job. I don't know why we keep wearing the same thing. I think, now that I've determined that you are neither a threat nor a weird prank, that we just appear to have the same taste in clothes, even down to the days on which we wear them."

     Dean felt all at once more confused and vindicated, like he had received answers but still had questions that he didn't even know to ask. "How, though? That's what I don't understand. I have never seen this tie on anyone else. I don't even know where it's from, it was a Christmas present. How do you have the same one?"

     Castiel shrugged, "I don't know. Mine was a Christmas present, too, from my older brother, Gabe. He said he got it from a local shop called  _Hunters_."

     Dean sat silently for a while before a laugh erupted from him. It started off as a chuckle and climbed its way up to a full belly laugh. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes when the laughter finally subsided. Cas just looked confused. "That explains it all," Dean elaborated, grinning at Cas and uncrossing his arms. "That's where I shop for my suits."

     Castiel smiled, and he and Dean shared a laugh together after that. When they quieted, Cas said, "Believe it or not, that's where I get my suits, too." Dean devolved into another fit of laughter.

     Dean nodded, "Let me guess, the tie rack by the dressing rooms is your favourite?"

     Castiel nodded in response, and they both smiled at each other again.

     "Castiel," Dean said, "now that I know for a fact that you're not a creeper, and now that I know for a fact that you're a nice dresser, I'd like to ask; would you like to get some coffee with me sometime?"

     Castiel smiled, the barest beginnings of a blush painting his cheeks. "Dean, I would love that."

     When Dean showed up at the coffee shop the following week, only to find Castiel wearing the same striped t-shirt as him, he sat across from him in the booth and laughed until he cried.

     Dean didn't hate the metro as much as he used to anymore.


End file.
